


Ricochet

by kara-lesbihonest (mxfivespot)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyguard Kara, Cohabitation for vaguely professional reasons, F/F, Jessica Jones inspired, Reporter Cat, Shared hotel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxfivespot/pseuds/kara-lesbihonest
Summary: Kara thinks she gets by just fine on her own. Sure, her "day job" means grungy nights spent playing enforcer for some of National City's criminal elite, but that's what she has to do to survive. When her foster brother Winn tells her about a private security job as a personal bodyguard for CatCo's ace reporter, Cat Grant, she decides to chase the hefty payday even though it's not her usual kind of work.
Kara quickly realizes that her shady past and Cat's next story may have unforeseen intersections she couldn't have predicted, and protecting Cat Grant will change both of their lives for good. 
Alternate universe where Kara was never found by the Danvers family, but ended up in the foster system instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is Jessica Jones inspired, but not directly related. If you see a little bit of Jessica in this version of Kara, that's why. The cover was made by the amazingly talented @xxtorchxx who you can follow on tumblr here: http://xxtorchxx.tumblr.com/
> 
> All credit to the #trashbin, my amazing editors, enablers, and encouragers.

Kara stood slouched against the cinderblock wall of a dilapidated building in National City’s eastern warehouse district, waiting. The worn concrete at her feet was crumbling, like most things on this end of the city, and it sparkled under the streetlights with rainbow-colored oil slicks wet from the rain earlier in the evening. The cool night air moved around her; distant horns and late night construction noise filled the soundtrack of her surroundings. She bowed her head and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then took a long drag from her cigarette. The ember flared orange as she pulled oxygen and nicotine into her lungs in equal measure. Impatience started to rise within her, but she pushed it away.

Luckily she didn’t have to wait much longer. She heard gravel crunching as a car approached and pulled into the lot of the lumber yard next door. That was her cue.

She pushed herself upward to stand straighter, flicked her cigarette to the pavement, and crushed the remnants with a twist of her heavy black Doc Marten.

“All right, you pieces of shit,” she mumbled to herself as she pushed off the wall toward her targets. “Let’s do this.”

Three swift uppercuts and one hard right hook later, she was buzzing across the Arc bridge on her motorcycle, heading straight for downtown National City and humming a little tune to herself. The envelope rested snugly in the inner pocket of her leather jacket and pressed against her ribcage, reminding her of the payday she was about to receive once it was delivered. The job had been even easier than she’d hoped. Sure, she had the world’s most unfair advantage, but that didn’t mean some jobs weren’t worse than others.

She hadn’t had to kill anyone tonight. That was a win in her book.

* * *

Maxwell Lord, National City’s Chief of Police, had terrible taste in suits. Cat stared at him now, sitting there draped across the couch in her office as if he owned the place. He oozed that sense of masculine entitlement she’d come to simultaneously tolerate and loathe in her line of work.

“Catherine,” he was saying. “Are you really sure you want to pursue this story?” He smiled at her. It was the sort of smile that said he wanted to be perceived as warm, but there was nothing warm behind it at all. “I think it’s beneath you, honestly. You’ve done bigger and better things already. Why waste your time with this?”

“You know, Max, just the fact that you’re sitting here in my office tells me this story might be even bigger and better than I originally thought,” Cat said, and poured herself a drink. She didn’t offer one to Lord.

His eyes moved from the scotch to the hem of her tight blue dress and back to her face. She jutted a hip, reminding him of what he really, _really_ could not have.

His eyes narrowed and he stood. “I’m just here as a friend, Catherine. And to give you some friendly advice - this story could lead you places you might not make it back from.”

Cat Grant had put up with a lot of things in her career. She didn’t get to the top of her game as an investigative reporter without dealing with a few handsy sources or asshole editors. She didn’t get a corner office without pissing off half the people who were still sitting out there in the bullpen. Cat was fine with being ridiculed, challenged, insulted, and criticized. The work always proved them wrong. But one thing Cat would not tolerate was being threatened.

She set down her glass on the bar a little too hard and in four decisive strides she was standing toe to toe with him.

“If you’re going to make threats, Max, I hope you’re prepared to act on them.” Each word was perfectly enunciated, unleashed into the negligible space between them.

“It’s not a threat,” he said, seemingly unfazed. He leaned in. “It’s a promise.” He smiled at her again, and she wanted to slap it right off him. Just as she was seriously considering it, he stood, turned on his heel and walked out of her office. She tracked him all the way to the elevator bank as he winked and nodded to several of the young female stringers on the way out.

She stood there a moment longer with her hands on her hips, deciding. When the elevator doors slid closed and she was sure his toxic presence was gone from the Tribune’s busy bullpen, she walked over to her desk and picked up the phone. It was time to bring in reinforcements.

* * *

Kara stood in the dimly lit back office of Bolshoi Restaurant, waiting. Igor Ivanov was leafing through the contents of her envelope, and though she could press her advantage and try to hurry this along, she knew it was better not to rush him. He was a careful man of considerable size and even more considerable power within National City’s unsavory underground. He didn’t like to be rushed.

She held her motorcycle helmet in one hand. With the other, she slowly rolled the edge of her leather jacket cuff forward and backward between her fingertips. She already wanted another cigarette.

Paper rustled as Igor flipped another page. His bodyguards stood like granite, one behind his desk and another near the door. Dust motes floated past his old green and gold desk lamp as he read.

“Is good, Kara,” he said finally. “Is very good!” he proclaimed, and his laughter boomed in the enclosed space.

“Glad to hear it,” Kara said. “Why don’t we settle up.”

His smile faded. “You know, _kotyonok_ , is unbecoming when you do business like a man.”

Kara held his eye and said nothing, standing her ground. After a beat, he stood and pulled a fat envelope out of his desk drawer. He handed her the money and she slid it into her jacket pocket. “If there’s nothing else?” Kara said, eyebrows raised, and she angled herself toward the door.

“ _Kotyonok_ ,” he said, the nickname grating on her. _Kitten_. “Pay attention to your phone. I will have work for you soon. Important work. Is a call you would not want to miss.”

Something about his tone gave her pause. Did that mean dangerous work? Big money work? Her thoughts skittered in several different directions at once. Something under the surface of his statement slithered under her skin and took root there, a layer of worry undefined. She walked out of the office, and she glanced back only to see his bodyguard close the door from within.

* * *

“Kara! Kara, hey,” Winn said excitedly. He had way too much enthusiasm for 1am on a Tuesday. Kara parked her bike in front of her building and clutched her bag of Chinese takeout as she fumbled for her keys. Always vigilant, she glanced down the block to a group of men standing huddled on the corner, but they paid her no attention. People weren’t too fond of anyone “super” these days. She never knew who might suspect she was something other than normal.

Winn was grinning at her as he stood up from the stoop. “Let me help you with that!”

“Carrying my food doesn’t mean I’m going to feed you, you know that right,” she said with a teasing grin as he took the bag from her. “I don’t feed strays.”

“Haha, very funny,” he said. She let him follow her into her apartment.

Her foster brother was the closest thing she had to a family. She barely remembered her “real” family; the memories of her world felt further away with every passing birthday. Even when they did bubble to the surface Kara had a nasty habit of pushing them away, burying them where they could not breathe and grow. She didn’t really _want_ to remember. They’d sent her away with the promise of some great life on earth.

Well. It turns out crash landing on earth in a space pod doesn’t make you special. In Kara’s experience, it just made you different. And different on this planet was very rarely synonymous with good.

Kara took two beers from her fridge and popped the tops on both, handing one to Winn. “Thanks. I really can’t stay, though. I just came to tell you about a job.” Kara groaned and flipped on the TV.

Winn worked the overnight IT shift at the National City Tribune. It was amazing to her what he’d accomplished with no money, no proper schooling, and almost nothing going for him in the world. They’d only been housed in the same home for a short period of time, but Kara was impressed by Winn. She’d never met someone so positive.

The only problem with Winn’s positivity was that he was always trying to _inflict_ it on her.

“No no, not a _real_ job,” Winn quickly assured her. They’d had the fight too many times to count - Winn wanted her to have stability, a steady paycheck, but Kara knew she was never going to be the kind of girl who shows up to an office every day.

“Excuse you, I _have_ a real job,” Kara said irritably. She spread out her food on the scratched wooden coffee table and started to pick at her sesame chicken.

“Okay,” Winn held up his hands in surrender. “Not a _corporate_ job, then.”

“Out with it, Winn. I love you but I’m tired and I just want to relax.”

“I heard about a job… well, a private security job. Personal security. For Cat Grant.” Winn fidgeted with his keys while Kara let that sink in.

Kara paused, her chopsticks frozen mid-air with a chunk of broccoli dangling. “Cat Grant? Like the Pulitzer-prize winning reporter Cat Grant?”

“The one and only.”

Kara pushed a carton of food toward him, her interest piqued.

“I wasn’t lying, I really can’t stay,” Winn said, his tone regretful. “But… should I give them your name?” he asked.

Kara felt the weight of the envelope full of cash in her pocket, reassuring and heavy. She considered Igor’s ominous words from earlier in the night - “a call you would not want to miss.”

“Yes,” she said finally. “Give them my name.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara meets Cat and they come to an agreement. As Kara insinuates herself into Cat's life to protect her, they get to know each other a little better - when people aren't trying to kill Cat.

Kara was beginning to realize that she was not dressed appropriately to look inconspicuous at the offices of the National City Tribune. She prided herself on being comfortable anywhere, but this was next-level. The glass-and-steel monstrosity stretched toward the clouds above her as she stood on the sidewalk in front of the entrance on 15th and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the smooth panels. Her blond hair was wavy and a little dirty. Her leather jacket looked worn and tired in the morning sun, and the grey jeans she’d thrown on felt sloppy and rough. Her boots were for curb-stomping, not business meetings.

She rolled her eyes at herself as she pushed through the rotating doors. _You’re not here to interview as a secretary_ , she chided, trying to convince herself it didn’t matter.

She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the 40th floor.

When Kara walked into Cat Grant’s office, she immediately sized up the woman in front of her. Cat was small, tiny even, and well-dressed. She looked expensive, like she’d put time and effort into every detail - and not just today, but always. Her hair was perfect and her jewelry understated. The room smelled faintly of fresh linen and something else Kara couldn’t place. Cat stood and offered a handshake across the desk. Kara took it, and made the mistake of looking Cat directly in the the eye as they touched. Her eyes were so green. They were greener than money, greener than the emeralds she'd stolen last month, greener than anything she'd ever seen.

_Shit_.

“Kara Zachary,” she said tersely. Cat didn’t bother to introduce herself. She gestured to a chair and Kara took a seat, crossing her legs awkwardly as she ran her fingers along the lux fabric of the furniture.

“Kara, I’m not one for needless small talk. You look like someone who doesn’t waste a lot of time,” Cat glanced down at her clothes and back up. “So I’ll get right to the point. I’m working on a story right now that hasn’t even made it out of the research phase. But I’ve already received a thinly veiled threat from the Chief of Police that I should drop it, or I might not make it out the other side.”

Kara raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Cat continued. “This contract will last the duration of research, writing, and publication. It could be months. This story, if done correctly, could rip apart the police force in this city. I just want you to be clear about what you’re signing up for. Once some of the force hears what I’m going to write about them, dialing 911 in an emergency is no longer going to be an option for me. You will be the only thing standing between me and whatever’s at the door. Do you understand?”

Kara didn’t know why, but she sat up a little straighter under Cat’s gaze. “I get the picture,” Kara said. She hoped her voice gave nothing away. Those green eyes were boring into her with the sort of searching appraisal she spent her entire life trying to avoid.

“And that doesn’t concern you?” Cat asked, genuinely curious.

“Miss Grant, if they come for you, I’m the only thing you’ll need.” Kara’s words hung heavy in the air and Cat blinked once. Twice.

“Your confidence is interesting, Kara,” she said, breaking their eye contact and reaching into her desk for pens and contract paperwork. “I’d like to know where that comes from. Eventually.”

Cat handed her a pen that Kara guessed was worth more than she’d made all year doing jobs for Igor. Kara glanced down at the dollar amount on the contract and dropped the pen onto the desk.

“Double it,” Kara said, leaning back in the chair. Cat, to her credit, did not flinch.

“This is the first of _five_ equal payments,” Cat said evenly. Kara nearly slid right out of the fancy chair she was perched on. She struggled to keep her reaction under control, but Cat’s mouth quirked into a little smile and Kara knew she was painfully transparent. Cat seemed pleased.

Kara snatched up the pen and signed on the dotted line.

* * *

If going to the Tribune had been like Alice visiting Wonderland, going to Cat’s house was like entering the castle of the Red Queen. When she walked into the lobby of the building, she was stopped first by two guards, and then the concierge. That was a decent start, but it wasn’t enough. They called Cat to confirm whether a visitor was expected, but they didn’t ask for a description. Kara could have been anyone and simply given a name Cat knew, and she would have easily made it up to Cat’s apartment.

Kara pulled out her cheap spiral notebook and started to jot down shorthand. She noted the guards’ names, ages, approximate heights and weights, and recorded the locations of the cameras that were in plain sight throughout the lobby. She stared up at the camera in the corner of the elevator, its black eye looking back at her. A blinking red light gave the appearance of functionality, but she would have to confirm with the building’s security team.

Kara knocked twice and then stood out of range of the viewfinder on Cat’s apartment door. Cat opened the door anyway. Kara frowned and made another note. Cat peeked around the doorway into the hall.

“Well, come in,” she said.

“Thanks.”

Kara stepped across the threshold and scanned the room for the layout. She made a quick sketch as Cat led her back through the house. The place was nice, nicer than anywhere Kara had ever been. It reminded her of a fancy hotel. Various shades of beige and cream coated the walls and adorned the drapery. Pops of blue stood out in tasteful accents. The carpet was so plush she felt her boots sinking with every step. Suddenly self-conscious, she glanced down at her feet and wondered if she should be wearing shoes at all, but it was too late for that now.

Cat eyed her with a curious look. She seemed like she was holding back a serious question, barely restrained on the tip of her tongue.

“Can I get you a drink?” was what came out instead, but she didn’t seem all that interested in providing one.

“No thanks,” Kara said. “I don’t drink when I’m working.” Cat sat down on one of the plush sofas and tucked her feet underneath her. She was wearing yoga pants and a loose sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a tiny ponytail. It made her look younger than Kara knew she was. Those green eyes were peering up at her. Kara realized she was still standing in the middle of the room, looking around.

“Do you do this kind of work often?” Cat replied.

Kara gave a little snort of disbelief. “Protect gorgeous reporters from the retribution of the National City police? No, I wouldn’t say I do that type of work too often.”

Cat’s eyes sparkled with interest, her perfect eyebrows raised and her mouth quirked with amusement. Kara kicked herself internally for her mistake, but she refused to yield. She locked eyes with Cat and jutted out her chin in a display of casual defiance. _Yeah, I said it. So what,_ she thought to herself.

Cat let her off the hook. “I’m just curious, mostly. If people’s chances… if my chances are good,” she said, glancing down at her hands.

Staring at Cat sitting there looking so small, Kara felt something she couldn’t afford in this type of work: a desire to comfort the woman was welling up in her chest, threatening to overwhelm her common sense.

Cat seemed unsure what to do next. She was waiting for advice, guidance. She was waiting to hear how Kara was going to protect her.

“You know, it’s… it’s going to be okay,” Kara started, but she faltered. She wiped her palms nervously on her jeans. She wasn’t sure how to do this, how to reassure someone else. She didn’t know how to tell Cat that she didn’t need to worry anymore, because she was Kara’s only focus now. She couldn’t say the things tumbling around in her ribcage, so Kara let the wave pass and her experience took over.

“Let’s go over some tactical information first. Do you have a security system?” She scribbled more notes.

“Yes.”

“Who monitors it? I need the name of the company and their contact information,” Kara said, and Cat pulled out her phone to start making notes of her own. “How many of the security guards downstairs know your name? How many people have keys to this apartment? Is there a visitor list?”

“Sit down, Kara, you’re making me nervous standing there,” Cat said quietly, and Kara was irritated to find herself obeying.

“Miss Grant-”

“Cat.”

“Miss Grant, I’m not here to be your friend,” Kara said.

“Plenty of people call me Cat who aren’t my friend,” Cat returned, and Kara relented.

“Fine. Cat. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to make sure you stay alive. You _should_ feel nervous. Paying attention to that nervous feeling might be the difference between publishing this story and ending up in a shallow grave,” Kara said.

Cat took a swallow of her own drink and regarded Kara carefully. “I thought that’s what I was paying you for.”

“You’re paying me to eliminate as much risk as possible. No one can ever eliminate every risk. But I can promise you, Miss… Cat, that I’m the closest you’re going to get.”

“I did a background check on you, you know,” Cat said abruptly. It sucked the air out of the room. “I don’t hire anyone without taking that precaution, especially not for something as important as this. There is zero record of your existence before age 13. Nothing. Almost as if you weren’t born… here.” Cat leaned in, graceful and subtle, and her name never seemed more appropriate.

Kara was frozen in place, pinned by Cat’s implication.

“Where _does_ that confidence come from, Kara?”

Kara was considering her options now. Maybe Cat already knew, or maybe she just suspected. Kara wasn’t the only alien in this city. Hell, she probably wasn’t the only alien on this block. They were mingled in among humans and most people knew it. Some chose to live under the radar, some chose to fly around in flamboyant suits. They all had one thing in common; all of them had to worry about backlash from people tired of the death and destruction that “superheroes” brought in their wake.

Some were just trying not to drown in the green-eyed gaze in front of them.

Kara felt her resolve slipping and temptation taking its place. Cat would find out eventually anyway, she rationalized. It was probably better that it didn’t happen in the middle of a firefight; that would be very distracting for both of them. Kara took a deep breath, rolled her eyes, and floated right up off the floor. She held out her arms in a gesture of “ _Fine. Are you happy now?_ ”

Cat’s eyes widened impossibly and her mouth fell open. Kara had to admit that the look on her face was a delicious rush of power. It went to her head and she did a slow spin in the air. Before Cat could blink, Kara used her super speed to grab Cat’s glass, refill it, and put it back in her hand before she could even feel it missing. She looked down at her scotch and back to Kara, and a new kind of possessiveness glinted in those green eyes.

“So,” Cat said, smugly pleased. “It looks like I’ve bought myself a superhero.”

* * *

Their arrangement turned out to be a simple one; Kara became Cat Grant’s shadow. She didn’t have to move into the apartment, exactly, but she didn’t plan on going back to her place very much, either. In just a matter of days, Cat’s spare room was taking on a decidedly _Kara_ quality. Dirty clothes were draped everywhere. Her leather jacket, the only possession she really loved, was the lone clothing item she bothered to hang on one of the fancy mahogany hangers in the closet. Her bathroom consistently looked like a dog had just shaken off its bathwater.

When Cat pulled herself out of her research long enough to remember to eat, Cat fed Kara as well without discussion. When Kara ordered more food than any human could possibly eat, Cat said nothing and paid no mind. Kara handled all deliveries, vetted all guests, and generally kept her body between Cat and anyone else at all times.

If any of these changes bothered Cat, she didn’t show it. Kara could tell she was deep in the throes of research, completely consumed by the thread of her story. This evening, full of pizza and standing quietly near the balcony window surveying the view, Kara snuck a glance at the woman she was now contractually obligated to give her life for.

_Give her life_. Was such a thing even possible? At this stage, Kara was not sure she could die even if she wanted to. Not that she wanted to, per se, but she felt an existential uncertainty about her future that humans didn’t. Was she normal in that way? Would she fade out eventually, or would there someday come a fight that she couldn’t, for whatever reason, win?

She pondered this as she stole a glance at Cat. Her reading glasses were perched on her nose and she chewed thoughtfully on a pencil, leaving delicate teeth-marks in the soft wood. Kara stared at her mouth, watching her lips move as she muttered quietly to herself. Her brow was furrowed in a way that made Kara want to brush it smooth with her thumb.

_Get your shit together Kara,_ she thought to herself. _Don’t be such a fucking cliche_.

Cat looked up and caught her staring. Her mouth formed that little smirk Kara had seen in her office last week when she’d been caught off guard about the money. Kara jerked her eyes back to the window, leaning her shoulder against the glass.

“It’s okay to look, you know,” Cat said breezily. She slid the glasses off her face and ran her hands through her hair. Kara turned, her mouth open to speak, but no response jumped to mind.

“It is what I’m paying you for. To watch me,” Cat said, and that fucking smirk broadened into a grin.

Kara rolled her eyes and pushed off the glass. “I’m going to bed, Cat. Stay away from the windows, and-”

“And don’t open the door for anyone or anything without waking you up, I know,” Cat finished for her. “We’ve been over it.”

“It’s important.” She hated the pleading tone that was laced through her words.

“Goodnight, Kara,” she said, pulling her laptop closer.

“Goodnight, Cat.”

Kara crashed onto the guest bed without bothering to change her clothes, and she sunk into a blackout sleep within minutes.

* * *

The first attempt on Cat’s life came just before dawn.

Kara was curled into a ball; she’d somehow kicked off her boots during the night and shoved her bottom half under a blanket. She was having restless dreams of Krypton when a vaguely mechanical humming pushed itself through her dream-state and lodged in her consciousness. Kara instantly recognized it, and she was out of bed and to the balcony door of Cat’s room before the bullets even hit the glass. In a dead sprint, Kara took each one as it came, the onslaught raining down in a steady stream from a drone hovering just outside.

Cat’s scream rang out, panicked and desperate behind her. “Kara! Oh my god!”

“Get on the floor!” Kara shouted, and Cat dropped to the ground on the far side of the bed away from the balcony windows.

The firing stopped. The drone just hovered there; Kara figured it was either out of ammo or its human controller was sitting in a room somewhere trying to decide how to deal with this completely unexpected obstacle. Kara backed up a few steps. Cat peeked over the edge of the mattress just in time to see Kara crouch, take a running leap, and fling herself over the edge of the balcony to bear hug the drone and drag it off into the night.

* * *

When Kara returned to the apartment balcony hauling the destroyed wreckage of the drone in her wake, she was slightly out of breath and annoyed, but otherwise no worse for the wear. She left the remnants on the floor of Cat’s bedroom and stalked through the house, assessing the damage and looking for anymore signs of trouble.

She could hear Cat’s even breathing and steady heartbeat from several rooms over, and she followed the sound to its source. She knew she looked like hell, but she had to check on Cat before she cleaned herself up. Kara approached slowly and leaned against the bathroom door frame.

Cat was sitting on the counter in the guest bathroom tending to some minor cuts caused by the broken glass in her room. Cat didn’t turn around, instead opting to glance at Kara’s reflection in the mirror. She continued dabbing small cuts with cotton pads. If the antiseptic sitting on the counter was stinging the wounds, the discomfort didn’t show.

“Here, let me do that,” Kara said. She half expected Cat to argue, but she didn’t say a word. She paused for a moment, then in one fluid motion she turned herself around on the counter and spread her legs slightly, inviting Kara to stand between.

Kara begged and pleaded with her eyes not to betray her, not to drop down to those pale legs, bare under the longish t-shirt Cat apparently slept in. Cat handed her the cotton square and her gaze dropped anyway. _Goddamnit_.

She distracted herself by focusing fully on the task at hand, cleaning each cut with thoroughness and care.

“Are you alright?” Kara asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. Shaken up, maybe, but I’m perfectly fine. And perfectly determined to see this through.”

Kara smiled a little at that. This woman was crazy, and she was starting to like that.

“Is that…? Come here,” Cat said with mock seriousness, acting as though she was inspecting Kara’s face for battle damage. Kara edged slightly closer, glancing at herself in the mirror.

“What?” she asked, and just for a split second, she wondered if she had somehow been injured taking down the drone.

“Was that an actual… smile? On my superhero’s face? God, I didn’t even know it was possible,” Cat said with feigned incredulity, grinning up at her now. Kara rolled her eyes, dropped the cotton and padded out of the bathroom without looking back.

“I should’ve let the drone have you!” she called back, and Cat erupted in laughter. The sound was musical and joyful and seemed completely out of sync with the destruction one room over, yet it was perfect. It made Kara feel something warm in the hollow of her chest, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. It made her feel happy.

Kara was digging around in her cheap duffle bag looking for another shirt. Cat kept throwing around the word “superhero,” but she didn’t have a fancy bulletproof suit or a cape with magical powers. She had cheap cotton, replaced over and over and over every time she got into a situation. She shrugged out of the shredded remnants just as Cat emerged from the bathroom.

Kara didn’t feel any particular shame about her body, but she knew that humans did. She glanced up at Cat, who was approaching her slowly.

“Uh, sorry,” Kara mumbled, figuring she should seem self-conscious.

Cat was looking her over, her eyes wide with curiosity. She’d seen the bullets hit her, Kara realized, and this was Cat Grant in disbelief. Cat reached up, her hands hovering just inches from touching Kara’s shoulders.

“May I?” Cat asked. Kara nodded, and she felt heavy, unsure where this was leading.

Kara’s eyes slid shut the moment Cat’s hands lowered down to the skin of her shoulders. She smoothed her palms across Kara’s bra straps and over her collarbones to meet in the middle right under her throat. Cat’s thumbs worked circles against the skin as Kara fought to control her oxygen intake.

“After all that, you’re still perfect,” Cat said, a little breathless, looking at her skin then staring up at Kara. “You really are astonishing.”

Kara backed away from Cat and from the compliment. A mess of emotions rioted inside her. No one had touched her like that in so long. No one had touched her so… tenderly.

She turned her back to Cat and slid an identical black t-shirt over her head. When she turned back around, Cat was gone - Kara could hear her on the phone talking to the police, reporting the attack while she still could.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat meets a source and runs into more trouble. Kara rescues her, but Cat reaches a breaking point of sorts. Kara's past starts to catch up with her, and suddenly she has a choice to make.

Their lives for the next two days consisted of police traipsing through the house, crime scene photographers coming and going, and hours spent giving statements. Cat was exhausted and Kara was on edge. The more people that had access to the apartment, the less control Kara had over risks to Cat’s safety. She used her vision to sweep every new occupant, and when the last of them left for the day, she swept again for bugs or hidden cameras that could have been placed during the investigation and cleanup.

She found nothing, but the unease remained.

Cat had long since retreated to her study, letting Kara deal with the police while she quietly continued her investigation, which now included looking into details about the drone, who might have controlled it, and why.

The police didn’t ask who Kara was, but Kara didn’t volunteer the information, either.

When the last of them had filed out, Cat emerged from the other room, a determined look in her eye that Kara didn’t like at all.

“I have a new source,” she announced. “And we’re going out.”

* * *

Kara sat in the driver’s seat of Cat’s black Mercedes, chewing on a fingernail and tapping her foot against the spotless floor mats. She was parallel parked under a streetlight outside a crappy little diner in northeast National City, and though she couldn’t see the sky for the darkness, she knew more rain was threatening. She always smelled it in the air long before the weather forecasters made their predictions.

Kara irritably mashed a button on the control panel and turned off Cat’s classical music. A car passed in the lane nearest her parking spot and she swept the vehicle as it moved. Nothing. Her thoughts wandered to their last words before Cat stepped out of the car.

_“I want to go in with you,”_ Kara had insisted, but Cat would not give.

_“I get it, I really do,”_ Cat responded, stilling the anxious rush inside her with one touch of soft fingertips against her elbow. _“But my source will be spooked if I don’t go in alone, and despite the job I’ve asked you to do, the story still matters more than me.”_

Kara had no answer that felt worthy. Before she had a chance to fill the quiet car with more words, Cat was sliding out of the seat into the National City night.

She glanced inside the diner again where she could clearly see Cat sitting alone at a booth, waiting. Right by a window, just as they’d agreed. Cat looked out, but not at her - she was scanning the sidewalk for any sign of her source.

Kara swept the diner again, x-raying the booths, under the tables, and back into the kitchen. She’d barely gotten to the dumpsters in the back alley when Cat stood, extending her hand to a tall, gaunt man in a baseball cap and a worn trench coat. He glanced around nervously, tugging compulsively on the sleeves of his jacket.

Kara narrowed her focus and listened to their conversation.

“Thanks for meeting me, John,” Cat was saying. “I assume that’s not your real name?”

He gave a short nod, still looking around, waiting for a reason to panic. Kara could relate.

“Yeah. I mean yes, you’re right, that’s not my real name. I came here to have my story told but also to warn you.”

Kara sat up straight, dropping her ragged nail from her mouth, gathering her focus.

“Warn me?” Cat said, concerned. She instantly switched to a smile when the waitress came around to greet the new patron at the table. She took his order for coffee, refilled Cat’s own mug, and moved back toward the kitchen.        

“You should know that the last person I told my story to ended up dead,” he said. He tugged his hat lower over his face and tapped one finger relentlessly against the formica tabletop.

“Well, that sounds like a story which desperately needs to be told,” Cat said. “Let’s hear it.”

Looking resigned now, or at least relieved that this reporter knew what she was getting into, he slowly started to spill words out onto the table between them.

Cat and Kara both listened, one enraptured up close and one eavesdropping from the car, to a story about the National City police force’s long-standing ties with organized crime. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Gotham, he claimed, but it wasn’t your typical mob entanglement. It was organized, and it was deeply embedded in the fabric of the force.

As John talked, Kara started to recognize names. Carl Sokolov was in charge of recruitment for the force; he made sure there were always moles on the inside. Kara had done a short job for him a year ago. Alexei Popov organized communications; Kara had seen him on the way out of Igor’s office last week.

“But the real danger,” John said quietly and Kara could see Cat lean in close to hear him, “is the main guy, the one in charge of police relations overall. His name is Igor-”

In that second, several things happened all at once. A single shot rang out, the hot pop of the bullet hitting its target loud in Kara’s ears with her hearing adjusted for close listening. Glass exploded and shattered inward, coating the table and John and Cat with broken pieces. A few other patrons and the waitress screamed and dropped to the floor, terror and instinct working in tandem to keep them out of harm’s way.

John the source slumped down on the table in front of Cat’s horrified face, already dead from a single sniper shot to the left temple.

Kara moved faster than even she thought possible. She leapt from the car and flung herself into the booth with Cat, wrapping her arms tight around the woman’s shoulders and covering as much of her as she possibly could. A few of the other patrons were crying, and Kara froze listening for the tell-tale slide and snap of another round being loaded into the barrel at a  distance. Cat was breathing hard, fighting to stay quiet. “Shh, shh,” Kara was whispering in her ear, hoping both to soothe and to maintain the tactical advantage of a silent target.

No other shots came. Satisfied it was safe to move, Kara shifted even closer. She slid one arm around Cat’s waist, and Cat lifted her face to look at Kara. She clutched Kara’s shirt mindlessly; tears threatened but didn’t fall. She was scared, and she was angry that she was scared.

“We need to move,” Kara whispered to her. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Cat did as she was told, and without further discussion Kara scooped her up out of the booth, sped her out the broken window and deposited her in the passenger seat of the car in the blink of an eye. Flying would be faster, but if they didn’t take the car, all of this would lead back to Cat sooner than she’d prefer; it was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Before anyone had another chance to mark them as a target, Kara was pressing the gas to the floor and peeling away from the scene of the crime.

* * *

As they walked into the lobby of Cat’s apartment building, the guards and other people passing stared. Cat held onto Kara’s arm, whether for physical or emotional support Kara could not be sure.

The minute the elevator doors slid closed, Cat dropped her hands from Kara’s arm and put them over her face. When her shoulders started to shake violently, Kara realized she was crying.

Kara felt that desperate need overwhelm her again. She wanted to fly Cat away from here, away from National City and away from this story. That would be true protection, wouldn’t it? Getting Cat the hell away from this? But Cat was not paying her to tell her to drop the story and run. Cat was paying her to ensure she didn’t _have_ to run; she was buying the freedom to expose these assholes to the world. She didn’t care about herself; all she wanted was to tell the truth.

It was a noble cause. But right now, in this elevator, Cat was falling apart.

The elevator doors opened at their floor but Cat didn’t move. She was struggling to get herself back together, to sew up the seams she’d just allowed to break open. Kara put an arm around her and guided her out of the elevator and up to her front door. She thought the other woman might protest, might tell her she didn’t need help or handholding. But Cat leaned in, looped an arm around Kara’s waist, and simply handed over her keys for Kara to unlock the door.

Two steps in the door, Cat realized her clothing was still covered in tiny glass fragments. Shell-shocked and limp from exhaustion, she started to slowly shed her clothes right there in the hallway. Kara stood motionless as Cat shrugged off her outer jacket, then her silk blouse. When she started on the button of her designer jeans, Kara’s hands began to ache from the want to help her undress. Startled at the impulse, Kara backed away instead.

“I’m going to run you a bath.”

Cat didn’t respond. She simply bent to slide the denim over her hips and stepped out of the puddle of clothes to follow Kara to the bathroom.

Kara had seen the master bath briefly during her tour of the house, but she hadn’t gone near it since. It was Cat’s inner sanctum, and sitting on the edge of the huge clawfoot tub testing the temperature of the bath water, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was intruding even now. Satisfied with the heat, she started thumbing through bottles of delicious-smelling bath products. Kara shrugged in surrender at the vast selection and picked one at random, pouring a bit of liquid into the tub.

“Okay Cat, I think-” Just as Kara turned to call out to her, Cat crossed the threshold into the room.

Seemingly without a thought or care about Kara’s presence, she unhooked her black bra and let it drop to the floor. She gracefully shed her underwear and sidestepped them, then brushed past Kara and slid into the tub.

Cat’s eyes slipped closed at the comforting heat, but Kara felt surely Cat could still see her standing there, staring, unable to move or breathe or think. “I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen,” Cat said distractedly, confirming Kara’s suspicions.

Despite the relaxing surroundings, that furrow deepened across her brow again. The stress of two separate attempts on her life in rapid succession was leaving its mark across her beautiful face. The stress of seeing Cat like this, bare and vulnerable, was leaving a mark of its own.

Kara had no idea what to do anymore now that her usefulness was fulfilled. With no task to anchor her - none she should act on, anyway - she stood. “I’ll be right outside, if you need anything.”

Cat gave a noncommittal “mmm” and Kara clicked the door shut gently behind her.

Kara sat on the very edge of Cat’s bed, picking at her nails, dutifully waiting for Cat to finish her bath. Her blond waves fell in her face as she looked down at her hands, pondering.

Cat was starting to get to her. Proud, beautiful, and determined - she was an unrelenting force. Kara had never met anyone like her. Playing in this world, even if for only a few weeks, was having a profound effect on Kara’s moral compass. Suddenly she felt a deep shame for all the past jobs she’d done, work for the very men named in that diner just before all hell broke loose. Work that - eventually - might be uncovered by the same story Cat was risking her life to tell.

Then there was the small fact that the sight of Cat’s naked body (however brief it may have been) was going to be burned into her brain for all eternity.

Kara flopped backward onto the bed in frustration, as if the answers to her problems might be floating somewhere near the vaulted ceiling.

* * *

The clock read 3:43am when Kara came to. A lengthy _bzzzzdt_ sound filled the room - Kara’s phone, buzzing in her pocket. A surge of adrenaline dumped into her veins when she realized she wasn’t somewhere immediately recognizable, but she kept herself still and took in her surroundings slowly. The dark blue sheets, the smell of fresh laundry, the opaque glass of the temporary balcony door - Cat’s room. She was in Cat’s room.

She was wrapped around Cat; apparently her gravitational pull was just as effective while she was sleeping, if not more so.

The woman’s small body was tucked into Kara’s arms, and it felt fragile in the darkness. Human bones were so brittle, their breath so faint. Cat’s pajamas were made of something silky and expensive; Kara wondered idly where one even bought pajamas like that. That thought led to another, and then another, and suddenly Kara was laying there in Cat’s orbit imagining herself buying her those pajamas as a gift. She imagined how Cat might primly slide off the wrapping paper, open the box, and declare to Kara that she loved them, that they were perfect. How she might tell Kara _she_ was perfect.

She had her palm resting possessively against Cat’s hip, and Cat’s ass was pressed firmly against her. Kara could barely take a breath for fear of disturbing her and ruining the spell of the moment. What was she _doing_?

_Look at yourself, Kara,_ she thought. _Imagining buying presents for a woman who doesn’t need a damn thing. Least of all you._ Kara tried to remind herself the only use Cat had for her body was if it was standing between her and a bullet. _Don’t get attached, Kara. Don’t be stupid._

She pressed her thumb against Cat’s hipbone, the gentlest touch. Cat sighed in her sleep. Kara tried to push it all down, shove it away, compartmentalize it. But the nagging sensation of Cat’s hands against her collarbones would not leave her alone.

_Bzzzzzzzdt_. Whoever was calling wasn’t giving up.

With the all the stealth she could muster, Kara slid backward out of the bed, gently disentangling herself from the other woman’s body. She already missed the soft warmth of that bed.

With a regretful look at Cat’s still-sleeping form and an irritated glance down at the “unknown caller” displayed on her phone screen, she stepped out of the room and answered.

“What!” she hissed.

“ _Kotyonok_ , you sound angry,” Igor’s voice booms over the line. “Tell Igor your troubles.”

“Not a good time,” she says quietly, cold fear settling in the pit of her stomach.

“IS good time, _kotyonok_. Is best time. I have job for you. Job that will make all your troubles go away.” Kara moved further down the hall, as if Cat might wake up and suddenly have super hearing, too.

“What’s the job,” she said quietly.

“Job is Cat Grant, _kotyonok_. Job is killing Cat Grant.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara comes clean to Cat, and Max makes a dramatic re-entry into the situation. Kara and Cat have to move to even closer quarters when they go on the run while Cat finishes her story.

Kara sat on Cat’s couch in the early morning sun, her head in her hands and her sense of purpose melting around her. From somewhere deep in the recesses of the very well-appointed kitchen, she heard a click and whoosh as the automatic coffee maker whirred into action. The smell of fresh grounds permeated the house, and Kara knew that enticing scent would soon rouse Cat from bed and all of this would be over.

They would be done, because she had no choice now but to tell Cat the truth.

She would have to admit to Cat she never thought the two worlds would collide - one seedy and dark and familiar, run by shadowy men in back rooms, the other modern and bright and full of truth. She’d foolishly believed they were so different they couldn’t possibly connect. But hearing Igor say Cat’s name, she finally understood the cruel irony that she and Cat were somehow two sides of the same coin.

Igor had just taken that coin, flipped it, and called Cat’s name.

Just as expected, the minute the pot finished brewing, a sleepy Cat padded out into the living room. Kara didn’t move from the center cushion of the couch, and found that she couldn’t make the words come; she had a hand over her mouth and Cat could see the fear in her eyes.

“What?” Cat said, the edge of panic clear in her voice. “What’s happened?”

“Cat, I...” she began, but her heart was resisting being broken.

It wasn’t much, this thing. They didn’t talk much, they didn’t share their backstories or their personal lives. They weren’t even friends, not really. But Kara was starved for the kind of trust and attention Cat seemed to offer so willingly. She needed to be necessary to someone. She needed to feel useful.

No one had ever made her feel as useful as the days she’d spent with Cat Grant, and they’d barely gotten to know each other at all. So when faced with the bleak reality of telling Cat the truth, Kara’s heart was fighting back.

The only thing that could overrule her desire to keep Cat was her desire to keep Cat safe.

“Cat, I have to tell you something,” she began slowly. Cat’s hands were shaking slightly as she dropped down onto the couch next to her, her eyes never leaving Kara’s. “I have to tell you something I should have told you at the beginning of this job. But I didn’t know, then. I didn’t know it would matter.” Kara was desperate now, clawing for a chance. “You have to believe me.”

“I can’t believe you until you tell me what the hell is going on!” Cat snapped, and Kara bowed her head.

Looking down at her feet, Kara spoke clearly and quietly. “The man your source was referring to just before he was killed... I believe the man’s name is Igor Ivanov. I know that name because I’ve worked for him before. Many times. I know his name because early this morning, before you woke up, he called me and told me that he had a job for me.”

Kara took a slow, deep breath and shattered the only security she’d ever felt since arriving on this bleak planet. “And that job is you.”

The dead silence of the room had a living quality of its own, like walking through an abandoned building. She could almost feel the ghosts of the life that used to exist in the space, but now it was lost to history. Cat was lost to her.

“Kara. Kara, look at me.”

Kara looked up slowly. Where she expected anger, she heard softness. Instead of rage, all she sensed was calm. Kara looked up in disbelief.

“I know about your connection to Igor, Kara. When I said I did a background check, I didn’t mean I checked your credit history,” she said with a wry smile, one that Kara was too shocked to return.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I wasn’t sure I could trust you. I didn’t know you. But I knew you worked for him. I was hoping that if you got to know me, you might help me expose him. Or, at the very least, lead him to me.” Cat pressed a warm palm against Kara’s knee, her expression full of sympathy and something else. “The surprising fact that you could and did actually protect me… well. I hope you can forgive me, eventually. For lying to you.”

“Forgive… _you_?” Kara asked in disbelief. “Cat, I don’t - there’s nothing to forgive.”

“You’ve surprised me exactly once throughout our arrangement, Kara. But don’t worry. Your connection to Ivanov wasn’t it.” Cat was smiling reassuringly at her, and Kara finally started to believe that maybe this tenuous thing wasn’t in ruins.

Relief flooded Kara like adrenaline slipping through her veins, bringing her body back to life. Her shoulders eased and her fingertips regained feeling she didn’t know she’d lost. She turned toward Cat now, their legs touching, Cat’s hand still resting against her knee.

“How have I surprised you?” Kara asked, her voice a whisper in the sunlight.

Cat stared into her eyes, barely inches away. Kara could smell faint hints of her soap, and her hair was delightfully mussed. “I need to know which job you’re here to do,” Cat ignored her question. Her expression flitted between doubt and hope. “I need you to make a choice. Are you here to kill me, or are you here to save my life?”

The question hung in front of Kara like heavy smoke; there was a fire burning underneath it, clearly visible in Cat’s eyes. For the second time, Cat was willingly putting her life in Kara’s hands. She was completely at Kara’s mercy, and she knew it. Now Kara knew it too.

Kara leaned in, her lips barely grazing the corner of Cat’s mouth as she spoke. Claiming this proximity was a risky chance to take, but Cat made her feel the best part of reckless.

“I’m here to protect you, Cat. There is no other choice,” she murmured. Kara felt her remaining control dissolve with the slow drift of Cat’s eyes closing as she pressed their lips together.

* * *

Kara was careful now; she felt like she just won something, or like she stole something secret and rare. She could feel the weight of the spoils just as easily as she felt that envelope of money a week ago, but this time the heavy feeling was inside her, thudding against her chest.

In a few endless minutes of kissing Cat on the couch, Kara’s entire system of value and worth had suddenly shifted beneath her just as surely as Cat herself shifted languidly, pulling her in and stroking her hair, lazily trailing kisses down her jaw.

Her own desire was growing low in her abdomen, a pleasant ache. She was still focused on Cat’s every move, waiting for an opportunity to not take for herself, but to give Cat more.

Before she had a chance, Kara’s heightened senses picked up a faint sound in the hallway outside. Heavy boots padded softly in rapid succession toward Cat’s door. Kara smelled sweat and gunpowder. She knew Cat saw the fear in her eyes just before the front door came crashing off its hinges. It fell flat on the entryway floor with a thundering boom; next came the devastating flashbang, its little puff of smoke nothing compared to the blinding light and static pop that surely ruined Cat’s vision, at least temporarily.

Kara was already on the move. She grasped Cat in her arms and twirled them off the couch to standing, shielding Cat with her body as she moved them rapidly backward toward the balcony doors. Six men were pouring through the door in unmarked tactical vests, armed to the teeth with semi-automatics. She knew they had probably calculated all the exits assuming their only options for escape were on foot. At least she still had the surprise of flight on her side.

Cat was clutching her shoulders behind her, breathing hard, her forehead pressed to Kara’s shoulder blade.

The strike team crouched in strategic positions around the room, and Kara finally realized that they hadn’t opened fire. She stood there, blocking Cat’s small body, her eyes wild with panic, unsure whether to fight or flee. Based on their positions, she wasn’t sure she was fast enough to take all of them out before one could get off a shot at Cat, and protecting her was paramount. Their only choice was to flee.

“Cat,” she said quietly. “On the count of three - hold on.” She felt Cat nod her head against her back. Every muscle in her body tensed as she prepared to turn, grab Cat and take off right through the glass. Then, just as she crouched to move, Maxwell Lord strode through the blown-out front door of Cat’s apartment.

“Catherine!” he said congenially, skipping over debris like he was having a very pleasant morning. Turning around and surveying the room, he addressed his men. “Boys, boys, let’s be more careful of Cat’s things. Stand down please. We’re just having a chat.”

The other men in the room lowered the weapons slowly, but they didn’t move from their positions. Cat poked her head around Kara’s shoulder tentatively, and Kara glanced back. Cat’s face was etched with that special kind of anger that follows the melting of fear.

“Get. the fuck. out of my house.” Cat stepped out from behind Kara now. “You’re going to pay for every cent of this damage, too.”

Kara looked from Max to Cat and back again, still on high alert.

“We’re just serving a warrant, Cat. You know how it goes. Every piece of technology in your house, as well as any papers, notebooks or other material used in investigating the National City police, has to be turned over to my task force.”

Cat strode toward him and Kara swallowed back a fresh wave of panic at no longer being between the woman and those guns.

“What task force?” Cat spat out, her disdain clearly evident.

“Oh, you haven’t heard? I guess your investigative skills need a little work, Cat. You’re looking at the head of the new Corruption Investigation Unit. Appointed by the mayor himself.” He was very pleased with himself. “Boys?”

At his word, the men slung their weapons over their shoulders and started turning Cat’s apartment upside down. Her laptop, her legal pads, flash drives and camera, phone - all were gathered up haphazardly and thrown into black duffels. They tossed drawers, flung cushions off the couch, and moved through the other rooms looking for anything they could take.

Cat stood there as they looted her work, hands on her hips, defiant. “Take whatever you want, Max. Have you heard of the cloud? Every bit of this evidence is backed up in a hundred places you and your goons can’t reach.” Kara couldn’t tell if she was bluffing. “Corruption Investigation Unit. That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard, and you know it, too. You know the mayor is just protecting his own involvement in all of this.”

Max said nothing; Cat moved even closer, lowering her voice a bit.

“What happened to you, Max? When we first started out, you had conviction. You had…” She trailed off, and Kara glanced between them again.

“Things change, Catherine. There are things more important than conviction.” They stared at each other in some kind of standoff Kara didn’t understand.

One of the men approached Max. “Sir, we’re good here.”

Max grinned. “See you soon, Catherine.” He stepped over the fallen front door and was gone, his team trailing out behind him.

Kara sped to Cat the second they were gone; she ran her hands from Cat’s shoulders down over her elbows and forearms, resting there gently. She wasn’t sure if she was checking for injury or just desperate to reassure herself with the feel of Cat’s blood still pumping strong through her veins.

“Cat? Are you okay?”

Cat’s eyes snapped back from surveying the damage. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Because we have to move.”

* * *

They’d taken a few short moments to separate and pack. Kara packed up quickly; she was used to packing light and staying mobile. Cat took longer, thinking through every possibility, trying to pack for work and travel and anything else she could imagine. She wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to thinking in terms of how to run.

Kara was struck with admiration for her, amazed that it had never occurred to her to run at all.

She’d tried to think of a way to tell her how brave she was, but as usual the words stuck in her throat and she sat silently on the edge of the bed, watching Cat toss things into her luggage. Finally they’d exchanged a quick “good?” “good.” Kara lifted the front door back into place and welded the hinges and doorknob with her heat vision as Cat watched her in amazement.

“One of these days I’d like a list of all the things you can do,” she said, and Kara gave her a rare smile.

Kara underestimated how much more difficult Cat would be when taken out of her element. She’d fought her on leaving the apartment; argued that she wouldn’t be driven out, wouldn’t let them get to her. And though Kara understood the impulse to stand her ground and protect what was hers, they had been attacked in the apartment twice now. That location was no longer an option.

The motel Kara chose was one of several locations she kept filed away for contingencies of her own. It was just outside of town, close to the airport, and older but not completely run down. As she and Cat unlocked the door (with an old fashioned key, not a keycard) and dumped their stuff on the two double beds, Cat looked it over with distaste.

“This is… less than ideal,” she said.

“It’s temporary, Cat. And it’s definitely a location no one would associate with you, ever.”

“Sweet talking me isn’t going to make this any better,” Cat said, but the half smile on her face told Kara it was working at least a little.

“Plus it’s close to the airport. And I know you don’t want to think about that option, but you have to stay open to the possibility that leaving National City completely may be the best way to get this story published.” Kara paused. “If there is still a story?”

Cat sat down on one of the beds and Kara went to pour her a glass of water from the bathroom sink.

“There’s still a story. It wasn’t just talk. Of course I have backups. Max knows that. He wasn’t there because he thinks seizing my computer will stop me. It was intimidation, posturing. It was just a play to find out exactly what I have so far. That, unfortunately, he did accomplish.”

Cat picked idly at a fingernail, trying for nonchalance and coming off as a bit defeated. Kara handed her the water and, before she could move away, Cat stopped her by grabbing her hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“Kara, you stood between me and six heavily armed men today, without a thought. Zero hesitation.”

Kara rubbed a thumb softly over her hand, wanting to accept the praise so badly but unable to shake the feeling that she didn’t really deserve it.

“It’s… I know it looks brave but it’s not really the same. It’s not that impressive to throw yourself in front of a bullet when you know the bullet will bounce right back.”

Cat stood up, holding both of her hands now.

“Kara, just because it won’t kill you doesn’t mean it’s not brave.”

Kara’s feelings consolidated in her chest, a firm, warm line from her throat down to her ribs. Her chest felt tight and she had the distinct impression that no one would ever look at her the way Cat was looking at her right then.

Cat smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and laid a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I’m going to get a shower. And, while I’m doing that, I need you to get me another laptop.”

With that, Cat walked to the bathroom and closed the door with a soft click.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat finishes her story; Kara starts to imagine what her life might be with Cat.

Kara laid there on her side staring at Cat as she typed away on her laptop, the glow illuminating her beautiful face in the dark. It was a shitty Chromebook from the nearest 24-hour big box store, and every so often Cat cursed its smaller keyboard that threw off her strokes. “Fugitives can’t be picky, Cat,” Kara had told her. It was partially true. Cat could be picky in the morning; Kara would take her credit card and get her a new Macbook Pro as soon as the Apple store opened. For now, though, this would do.

Cat sat with her back to the wall so the light of the laptop shone away from Kara’s face. She vaguely wondered if that had been a thoughtful gesture in trying not to disturb her sleep. Cat was clothed in a worn-in grey sweatshirt and running shorts, her bare legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles.

Kara wondered if this is what Cat looked like in her college years. Her hair was pulled back in a messy little ponytail, she had a pen stuck behind her ear, and the light of her screen threw a glint against her glasses. She tried to imagine that version of Cat stringing for the college paper, chasing down stories about the administration’s unfair hiring policies or some admissions scandal. Kara wondered if she was just as determined, even then.

After a minute Kara stretched, which drew Cat’s attention; she closed her laptop slightly and set it down beside her, but the glow still cast some soft light against Cat’s thigh.

“Hey,” Cat said. Without meaning for it to happen, Kara’s smile burst through and she felt the crinkles around her eyes crease with affection for Cat.

“Hey,” Kara said, feeling absurd at how happy she felt over something so small. She closed her eyes and stretched again. She felt the cool air hit her skin as her t-shirt crept up her stomach. When she opened her eyes, Cat was no longer looking at her face. Her gaze was pressed firmly against Kara’s exposed abdomen, and she could feel her eyes just as acutely as if Cat’s hands were on her body.

She could think of nothing else. Having someone like Cat Grant look at her this way was paralyzing because she had no basis for comparison. It wasn’t wanting, exactly. Her gaze was both possessive and fraught with restraint. She didn’t know Cat well enough to tell, but Kara almost thought she was struggling.

Suddenly the memory of their earlier, interrupted kiss in Cat’s apartment was there with them, a presence in the room.

“How’s the story coming?” Kara asked, frozen. Her halfhearted attempt at a diversion failed to break the spell; she wasn’t sure she’d even wanted to succeed.

“It’s done,” Cat responded, brushing away the question. Cat’s eyes were still on Kara’s skin.

Kara didn’t know what Cat wanted from her, or if Cat wanted anything at all. Kara tried to push her anxious thoughts away. Without breaking eye contact and with no frame of reference for what they were doing, she relaxed one arm above her head and trailed her right hand down to her stomach, then dragged her shirt up a little bit higher. It wasn’t enough to be overt, but it was purposeful. It was the sort of gesture that said, _if you want to look, you can_.

She watched Cat closely, looking for some kind of sign that this was what she wanted.

Cat’s fingers were crushed into fists on either side of her hips, digging into the scratchy hotel blanket. Kara dragged her eyes down Cat’s legs; her toes were curled into the bedding, and to Kara’s sensitive ears, her heartbeat sounded like a shot inside a tin can.

Kara swirled her fingertips in lazy circles over the muscles of her stomach and felt a tingling where goosebumps jumped to attention in their wake.

“Kara, why are you still here?” Cat’s voice was huskier; whatever laid underneath it was barely contained now. Suddenly Kara was willing to risk anything, even her own bulletproof heart, to find out what it felt like when Cat lost control. She was next to Cat on her bed before she even knew she’d made the choice.

She couldn’t tell her why, but she could show her.

Kara lifted her hands to Cat’s face, caressing her jaw with what little firmness she would allow herself. If Cat felt any hesitation, it didn’t show; she relented instantly, as if she’d been waiting. She grasped Kara’s shoulders, smoothed slender fingers over her shoulder blades, and tangled her hands in Kara’s hair in encouragement.

Cradling her head with a strong hand, Kara pushed her onto her back as she swept her tongue into Cat’s willing mouth. Cat made a pleased “mmm” as Kara settled on top of her, nudging her legs apart and sliding a muscular thigh between. Cat’s body was soft and supple below her and her heat radiated outward, communicating in a way of its own.

Cat’s arms circled Kara’s neck, fingernails lightly scraping against her shirt, pulling at fabric, slipping underneath. Cat writhed beneath her, hips rocking against Kara’s thigh with shameless purpose as they kissed. Kara could still smell soap and sleep and fresh starts, and she breathed in deeply. Everything about Cat screamed _warm_ : her mouth, her eyes, the ricochet of her heartbeat against Kara’s chest. Kara dipped lower to kiss her earlobe, her neck, her shoulder.

She wanted to tell Cat what this meant, how she would never do this lightly, how she’d never felt anything like this. She struggled for the words to create an approximation of the feeling building inside her, and she came up short.

She rocked her thigh against Cat’s center, neither of them bothering to remove any clothes, neither willing to give up contact even for a second. The feeling of Cat beneath her was the strongest Kara had ever been, despite the fact that she could bend steel into sculpture or melt beaches into glass. Cat peppered her mouth with desperate kisses and let out a whimper, a small, keening sound that made Kara want to protect her forever, gift her these moments, give her the ability to let go.

This, _this_ was the best Kara would ever be.

She rocked her thigh again, one hand sliding down to grip Cat’s hip and pull her up with each thrust, allowing her the friction she so clearly needed. She gently nosed Cat’s hair out of her way and nipped lightly at her earlobe. Finally, emotions stripped completely bare at the sight of her, Kara found her words.

“I’m here to give you anything you want,” Kara whispered against the shell of her ear. “Anything.”

The words hit home. To her shock, Cat cried out, a surprised “oh!” slipping off of her tongue. Her arms went rigid, clinging solidly as she pushed three more hard thrusts against Kara’s thigh in quick succession. She held the last one, her arms like iron around Kara’s neck, forbidding her to move.

Kara watched her in disbelief. “Cat?”

After a few seconds, Cat’s body relaxed, limp and spent, Kara’s leg still trapped between hers. Eyes still closed, Cat let out a small laugh and smiled as she lazily trailed a leg up and over Kara’s hip, tracing the back of Kara’s calf and thigh with her foot along the way.

“Jesus, Kara,” she said with an audible exhale. Kara, once again unable to find the words to express her emotions, gave her a little half-smile instead.

Cat popped her eyes open and stared up at her. She brought one finger up to push away an errant wave of messy blond hair.

“I need to correct my earlier statement,” Cat said. Kara raised one eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Cat smiled. “You’ve surprised me twice.”

* * *

 Kara’s phone woke them out of a deep sleep. The streetlight outside the hotel flickered, and Kara could tell it was the dark hour just before dawn started to steal the sky.

“Zachary,” she said sleepily.

Igor dispensed with any pleasantries.

“I need an answer, _kotyonok_. If you don’t want this job, I think crazy. But I need to hire someone else if you say no.”

Kara put the phone on speaker just as they’d discussed. Cat flipped on a recording app on the laptop.

“Tell me the price again,” Kara baited.

“Goddamnit you know the price. One million. Cat Grant dead. Is simple, even for you, _kotyonok_. Don’t be stupid.” He was impatient. He knew what Cat had now, knew what was coming. He knew his empire was about to crumble, but their one hope was still intact - Maxwell didn’t realize Igor knew Kara. They both knew who she was, but Max knew her as Cat’s bodyguard, and Igor knew her as the assassin she was - used to be.

He was desperate, and like most desperate people, he made a fatal mistake.

“What if I get caught?” Kara asked. “I heard there’s private security. I heard there’s someone watching her 24/7. I could get arrested.”

“Why this fear all of a sudden? Even if you get caught, there is no worry. The chief of police answers to me. The charges will never hold. I will make sure of it.”

“How do I know I can believe you on that?” she asked, and she held her breath.

“Because Maxwell Lord is footing bill for this particular job. Money is here. All it’s waiting for is you to complete task.”

Cat’s smile was triumphant in the moonlight. This was it - trackable, traceable evidence of money flowing between Max and Igor. Kara took the bait to get him off the line.

“Okay Igor. I’ll kill Cat Grant.” 

* * *

Two days later, the two women sat together at the bustling international terminal in São Paulo, Brazil. Kara’s hair was pulled into a tight ponytail tucked through a black baseball cap that she pulled low over her eyes. Cat’s hair, dyed darker now, flowed loose over her shoulders.

Kara’s feet were propped on top of her suitcase and she held a newspaper as if she was relaxed, reading, but she was alert. She scanned across the airport for any signs of trouble and found none.

“Relax,” Cat told her quietly, marking another series of letters into the little boxes of her crossword puzzle. Cat’s three thousand dollar designer duffel was resting on the seat beside her, topped with a floppy sun hat and her purse.

Around them, the sounds of travel filled the air. Announcements blared over the loudspeaker that only Cat could understand, and gate agents spoke to passengers nearby who were unhappy with their flight delay or their seat assignment or their lot in life.

Glancing over at Cat, Kara couldn’t find a thing to be upset about.

The day after Igor’s call, Cat had uploaded her story and the audio of the conversation directly to CatCo’s website herself right from their hotel room. It was a shockingly anti-climactic moment for a piece of writing that had nearly cost her her life several times throughout its creation, but Cat said that’s how it was meant to be.

“Modern journalism is all in the prep work, Kara,” she’d said. “Publishing’s the easy part.”

The story not only rocked National City, but broke open investigations into similar connections in other cities across the country. Igor was part of a network of criminals deeply embedded in the law enforcement structures of both Metropolis and Opal City, and those entanglements were not easily undone. Unrest was at an all-time high, and other more noble-minded heroes had their work cut out for them.

Today, looking at Cat in her sundress in the Brazilian sun streaming through the glass windows of the airport terminal, Kara was happy to be selfish; she was happy to be in service of just one woman.

They weren’t running, exactly. Cat had called it a vacation. Cat looked up and caught her staring; Kara just grinned. She rolled her eyes and went back to her crossword puzzle.

Kara’s phone buzzed with a series of rapid, excited texts from Winn.

 

_Winn: Kara? I have a feeling this is your doing_

_Winn: Did you do this?_

_Winn: My bank account has so many zeroes in it. So. many. zeroes._

 

Kara laughed to herself and tapped out a message back.

 

_Kara: Consider it payback for putting up with me all these years_

_Winn: But what about you?_

 

Their gate agent said something in Portuguese and Cat stood up. “Come on, supergirl. Time to go,” she said.

As she and Cat settled into their first class seats to Buenos Aires, Kara sent a final message before sliding her expensive new phone into airplane mode.

 

_Kara: Don’t worry about me. I finally found that stable, permanent job you’ve been so desperate for me to have._

_Kara: It’s just not a company._

_Kara: It’s a person._

 

She tossed her phone into her bag and turned to Cat. “So, what are we taking on next?”

Cat grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned in for a quick kiss. “The world.”


End file.
